


Teacher's Pet

by likeabomb



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Aftercare, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Safeword Use, Semi-Public Sex, age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26402899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeabomb/pseuds/likeabomb
Summary: Charles accidentally spies in on two of his professors having fun in Professor Lehnsherr's classroom. A week later he gets asked to stay after class.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr/Magda (X-Men)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28
Collections: X-Men Kink Meme 2020





	Teacher's Pet

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [XMen_Kink_Meme_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/XMen_Kink_Meme_2020) collection. 



> For the X-Men Kink Meme 2020!  
> Hope you enjoy!!

It’s rare that there are things that can pull Charles from his own head most days. He’s always focused, always moving, always got something he’s puzzling out. Sometimes it’s his schoolwork, and sometimes it’s the social dynamics of university that he just can’t seem to pin down. He’s not  _ unpopular _ , but he’s not connecting to his peers in the way he wants, and it’s ever present and a frustration he can’t shake that nags at the back of his mind.

So when something  _ does _ draw him out of his own machinations, it’s usually enough to surprise even him.

Mingled laughter, one high and silky, one softer and rougher. It’s a sound that echoes down a hallway and Charles can’t help but stop to listen. 

The voices are familiar, but he can’t place them, and when he stops to peek down the hall to see who it might be- to see if it’s someone he recognizes- he realizes very quickly, it’s Professor Lehnsherr and Professor Maximoff. And they’re in the hallway. And Professor Lehnsherr has his hand cupping one of Professor Maximoff’s breasts, and in turn, she has a hand against his groin. Her face is tucked into his neck, and Charles ducks back around the corner before he’s spotted, face on fire.

They definitely shouldn’t be in the hallway doing that. It’s very… against policy.

He swallows hard and his toes curl in his oxfords.

Charles strains to listen despite knowing he very much shouldn’t, and he should definitely be getting back to whatever it was he was doing, which at this point he’s forgotten.

He hears the squeak of the classroom door and laughter muffle before he peeks around again. Nobody in sight.

Standing where he is pressed to the wall for a few quick slams of his heart, pounding all through him, he slips around the corner to creep down the hallway. He can bet they’re both too caught up with what they’re doing that they didn’t hear or see him at the end of the hallway- Professor Lehnsherr would have surely called him out for it- so he feels safe with the idea that he’s unknown and sneaky.

Except he’s not! He’s not sneaking around! That would be… against policy too.

He’s going to get into so much trouble if he keeps following this rabbit hole, but the laughter mixed into such a sweet cocktail is intoxicating.

Peeking in the door left open partially, Charles can see Professor Lehnsherr and Professor Maximoff at his desk. She’s seated on top of it, her arms around his neck while she peppers his face and jaw and neck with kisses. He has her dress hiked up. Her back is to Charles so he can’t see what they’ve got going on between them, but it’s more than enough for him to know it’s definitely probably sex.

A quick glance down the hallways in either direction assures him no one is coming out this way. Not after classes are all finished for the day and the sun is setting. It’s a nice day out! There’s no reason to be cooped up in the stuffy classrooms.

Unless of course you have very good reason to be there.

Charles would say this is about as good a reason as any.

Professor Lehnsherr hums happily as Professor Maximoff suckles a hickie against the curve of his shoulder, down far enough that it won’t be spotted by his students. His tie is pulled loose, the buttons of his shirt coming undone one at a time under nimble fingers and painted nails. The wet sound is a noise that almost echoes in the lecture hall and makes Charles gut hot. 

He wouldn’t mind leaving a mark there.

Jamming his eyes shut, he can’t believe he just thought that. Professor Lehnsherr is his, well, professor!  _ Definitely _ against policy!

Swallowing hard, Charles peeks an eye open to watch anyway, because watching and thinking aren’t against policy, right? This is fine.

Licking over his lips he checks again for anyone in the halls to catch him peeping, but every time he does it gets harder and harder to tear his eyes away from the shameless foreplay in the middle of the classroom.

He wonders idly as he realizes he’s starting to get hard if  _ they’re _ thinking about the seats full of spectators to their act. He wonders idly if they know  _ he’s _ watching. Would they be appalled? Would they be thrilled? Would they… invite him to join them.

“Erik, what is it?” Professor Maximoff asks gently, pushing his jacket all the way off his shoulders.

Charles looks to Erik’s face rather than the entire picture, mind wandering through the ramifications of his voyeurism, and he makes eye contact with the man.

He’s been staring at Charles peeking through the doorway for who knows how long. Charles stares back as Erik keeps eye contact but smiles, “It’s nothing, dear Magda, I heard someone in the hall.”   
  
Magda chuckles and Charles can see she moves her arms in a way that she’s unbuttoning the front of her dress. Only then does Erik’s eye leave him, and the fear that had flooded through him drains out in a rush.

Before he has a chance to really think about if Erik had recognized him through the crack of the door, he takes off, bolting for the doors outside.

Fresh air hits him and he takes a hearty gulp, scaring off a pair of students passing by with their bags. He fights to compose himself but still sprints most of the way back to his dorm to lock himself tight in his room and give the whole situation the proper  _ attention _ it needs.

# # #

The next day, Charles sits in the back of Professor Lehnsherr’s classroom rather than the middle front where he can stay engaged. He teaches History of Mutants, which covers everything from the first recorded mutants, to mutants who they have come to understand  _ were  _ mutants but weren’t called such at the time, the trials, and the rights and continued struggle they face and fight for.

It’s honestly Charles’ favorite class, but today he isn’t able to pay near as much attention as usual because every time he actually looks at Erik’s face, Erik makes eye contact with him and he wants to shrink down, drowning in a heady mix of shame and embarrassment and arousal.

When class lets out that first day after he’d seen what he had, Erik doesn’t call out to him, but Charles can still feel his eyes boring into him when he scrambles out of the room.

On the third day Charles works up the courage to actually speak up during class, and rather than how he’s typically addressed, last name only, Erik regards him before actually saying his first name.

“Charles.”   
  
And that alone is enough that whatever question he had or point he was going to make falls out of his head and he’s lost his train of thought. He stares stupidly and blinks before squinting, putting his hand down awkwardly.

“I figured it out, Professor, my apologies. Please continue.”

The angle of his brows is interested and speculative, but he seamlessly goes back to where he was in the lecture.

A week after the incident, Professor Lehnsherr calls over the hard sudden cacophony that comes with dismissal of his students, over the shuffle, over the chairs, over the books and chatter.

“Charles. Stay behind.”

He freezes where he’d been trying to slip out with the first students and winces. He gets a few sympathetic looks and a few snickers but he stays behind as he was asked.

Erik closes a few of his books and neatly stacks some of his papers. Paperclips rise and slip over them to keep them organized. The erasers for his chalkboard have metal strips in them so that he can levitate them. (More than once he’s launched them at sleeping students.) Two clean the board behind him as he waits for the last of the students to file out of the room, leaving himself alone with Charles.

He wonders if his fear is palpable or not. It feels like it.

Setting his pen down, Erik finally regards him, eyebrows high and expectant, almost as if he’s waiting for Charles to say something first. It makes him squirm.

Jaw twitching, Charles chews on the inside of his bottom lip and watches the chalkboard so he won’t have to look at Erik’s face.

“Are you going to continue trying to pretend like you weren’t caught, and slip in your studies out of shame, or are you going to own up to what happened?”

Charles ducks his head a little, adjusting the strap on his bag. Erik is a younger professor, so while there is a gap in their ages, it’s not astronomical. The power dynamic between teacher and student, though, is something different.

Something Charles thinks is kind of thrilling, honestly, and in the last week the amount of times he’s searched through hubs looking at that specific dynamic are almost shameful. Almost.

“It was inappropriate. I’m sorry, sir,” Charles grovels quietly.   
  
Coming around the desk, Erik’s voice is stern, “You’ve always put stock in the respect of eye contact. Now you’re avoiding it. Have I lost your respect, Charles?”

His face sobers a little as he makes eye contact with the man, because he knows he’s right. He does what he can to keep eye contact with those who can because he wants them to know he is engaged and invested in what they say. He doesn’t expect it from others, but it’s a standard he holds himself to. He hasn’t been holding that same respectful gesture with his professor since he was caught watching.

“No, sir. It wasn’t a lack of respect for you. It was my own shame.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Charles,” Erik smiles, and his shoulders relax a little, and the whole tone shift knocks the wind out of Charles.

What is happening?

Stepping closer still, Erik lifts a hand to hold Charles’ chin, turning his face a little in his grip, and Charles complies. Rather than the hard and hot rush of embarrassment he’s taken to lately, a slower and cooler blush crawls across his face. Professor Lehnsherr really is a stunning man. A wonderful sharp jawline and cheeks, and the most cunning eyes Charles can remember seeing before. The passion with which he gives his lectures never ceases to astound him.

“Did you enjoy the show you spied on?”

His voice is deep and rumbling and his hand his warm and Charles’ chest rises and falls harder. Is he being propositioned? Oh, God.

He swallows hard and licks over his own lips unconsciously, his mouth dry, and the movement draws Erik’s eyes to his mouth and that too only makes him breathe a little harder, lips parted.

“I asked you a question, Charles,” Erik presses.

Floundering a little, he draws a sharp breath, “I- I mean-”   
  
“The truth.”

“Yes,” Charles says simply, searching Erik’s face to see if that was what he was meant to say or if he needs to drop this class and change his name.

Erik’s expression is hard to read, though, and the creak of the door to the classroom makes Charles turn his head to look, realizing how closely he’s standing to Professor Lehnsherr.

Much to his surprise, Professor Maximoff is standing in the doorway and Erik calls to her, “Ah, Magda, my dear, you’re just in time.”   
  
“Am I?” She asks, and her own voice is playful and light in a way that makes Charles’ stomach feel funny. 

“Charles here was just telling me how he’d enjoyed spying on us last week,” Erik smiles, and a hand reaches to settle itself on his hip to turn him around press his chest to Charles’ back. Magda is sliding a few seats in to sit herself in the farthest most row at the back of the classroom, but calls, “Isn’t that right, Charles?”   
  
Is he sweating? He’s got to be sweating at this point.

He gives Magda a sheepish smile, nervousness crackling off him like lightning, “Y-yes?”

She smiles and waggles fingers in a wave at him before propping her chin on her hands to watch the show just like he’d watched through the crack in the door.

Erik’s hands are heavy on his shoulders, keeping him in place, reminding him he’s there, but not trapping him. They move from his shoulders up his neck to cup his face from behind and though Charles is a few inches shorter, it’s enough to make him shiver all the way down to his toes. It’s only made worse when Erik leans in to mutter against his ear, rushing hot air against his cheek.

“She can’t hear me, but you can. She’s going to sit and watch, like you did. And if you do well, there might be an option for extra credit, Charles.”

He licks over his suddenly dry lips, watching Magda as she watches them, and his lips purse and he nods gently.   
  
“Good man,” Erik hums, and turns him around to face him again, tilting his chin up so he can catch his lips in a kiss that starts hungry and turns ravenous. And Charles is more than eager to give as good as he gets, gasping little breaths when he can.

Erik pushes his jacket off his shoulders and it gets dropped in a heap on the floor. Charles hands find his belt buckle and work on pulling it open.

Though she doesn’t make a sound, Charles is all too aware of Magda sitting in the seat in the back of the room, watching their every move, and when Erik pulls him, he follows until he’s pushed against the desk, hips flush between the heavy desk and Erik’s own hips behind him. He’s already hard, edging on aching, and the whole situation is just- it’s all the things he didn’t know he wanted. And god does he want it.

Erik keeps their backs to their audience and facing the black board, Charles can almost imagine it’s not just Magda in the seats, but a whole class, and he moans quietly. Huffing a quiet laugh in his ear, Erik reaches around to stroke over the front of his pants, tracing the outline of his cock with a gentle hand.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about, Charles. What part of this gets you going?” He punctuates his point by rubbing his dick with a flat palm before undoing the button and fly.

“The- mm- Thinking about a whole class. Professor Maximoff watching.” Charles answers, and then breathes, “You, sir.”

Pressing a kiss to his hair, Erik smiles, “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

Charles startles a shout when Erik swats him in the ass. It could have been a lot harder, a proper spank, and it’s still through the fabric of his jeans and briefs, but he was more shocked than hurt.   
  
“Lube, out of the top desk drawer. And a safeword.” His tone is stern but not without the edge of the smile Charles is so craves to see on his face the last couple of days.

He skitters around the desk to pull the top dresser drawer open, and sure enough, there’s a bottle of lube tucked to the side. He looks up at Erik, and subsequently Magda at the back of the room, and his face flushes hard with heat. Erik looks at him pointedly, expectantly, and he comes back around after he remembers to close the drawer and presses the bottle into his open hand.

“And?” Erik raises his brows, looking him over.   
  
Charles thinks about it for a moment before answering, “Apricot.”

A fluttering laugh circles the room with the acoustics and Charles watches Magda for a moment before Erik catches his attention again, “I expect you to use it if you need it.”   
  
Nodding firmly, he understands at least those rules of engagement, and he’ll respect Erik and himself. He doesn’t think it’ll come to that, but he’s doing a hell of a lot of things he didn’t think he’d be doing in a million years.

“Strip down,” Erik commands, undoing the buttons of his own shirt and pulling the belt free of his pants, tossing them with the growing pile of Charles’ clothes. He glances at Magda once, and she gives him an encouraging smile, but Charles can’t think too hard about the logistics of where they are, who they are, and the fact that this is  _ entertainment _ for at least two of them.

Once he’s down to his briefs, he looks at Erik before hooking his thumb in those too and dropping them. Erik smiles, and while Charles is laid bare, Erik’s shirt is open, sleeves rolled up, and pants kicked to the side.

When he crouches to squat in front of Charles, though, he’s sure his whole world is going to implode in on itself. With a guiding hand, he sets encourages a hand in his hair before he leans in to pepper chaste kisses up and down the length of his cock and cup his balls, rolling them over in his fingers. He nips Charle’s thigh quickly, making him jump, and those stormy blue eyes glance up, making sure what he’s doing is fine, even if he has a dominant presence in the current dynamic.

Licking a long stripe up his dick, Erik has no problem at all taking him into his mouth, using his tongue in a way that makes Charles’ head fall back and eyes roll. He’s so good at this, and it makes Charles’ knees weak. His professor is sucking his cock. His very hot, very passionate, very intelligent professor is down on his knees _swallowing_ _around his dick_.

That’s it. He’s figured out lucid dreaming.

As Erik lavishes him with attention before pulling off easily. The string of spit and pre that connects the head of his ruddy cock to Erik’s lips for a moment makes him light headed. He bites his lip til it’s sore and shivers when Erik breathes hot over him.

Standing back up, he pats Charles’ hip and he watches the older man, brows knit, before he does what is being suggested, and turns around. Erik guides him to put his hands flat on the desk, and when he stands behind him, he kicks his feet apart enough that he’s spread open.

The cap of the lube behind him, out of his range of vision, has prickles of goosebumps running up his arms, and the warm soothing hands on his lower back and hip help before two slick fingers run between his ass cheeks and across his hole, just to slick the area itself first. Charles hands clench into fists and Erik reminds him gently, “Hands flat.”   
  
“Why?”   
  
Erik’s hand stills and Charles grinds his teeth. He leans against Charles’ back and growls quietly, “Because I said so.”

Charles spreads his fingers out flat.

“Good,” Erik coos gently, pressing another kiss to his hair, just above his ear. He goes back to slicking him up, and when slips the first finger in, it’s tight, but glides easily. Erik smears lube all inside his ass, making each thrust of his finger easier and quicker. 

Slowly but surely he works him up from one, to two, to taking three of his fingers. By the time it’s three, he has Charles bent over the desk farther, and his cock bobs heavy with every thrust. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to last until Erik actually fucks him proper at this rate, but he wants it.

When Erik pulls his fingers free and doesn’t add a forth, Charles almost chokes on a sob of relief and eagerness. Erik’s clean hand strokes his back, up and down, in a soothing motion, and fists a handful of his hair. He doesn’t tug, but it does help to ground, and Charles is glad for it.

His hands leave Charles’ hot skin and he hears the bottle again, and the sound of being fingered was embarrassing, but the sound of Erik stroking his dick behind him is absolutely obscene.   
  
He feels the blunt head run against his hole, up and down, and Erik uses both hands to spread his ass cheeks, and slowly eases his cock in, a little at a time as not to overwhelm Charles. A hand settles on his shoulder, at the crook of his neck, and his thumb runs along the back of his neck, ruffling the hair there gently. It’s a reassuring touch.

“You’re doing good, Charles. Tight and hot. Relax.”   
  
Charles clenches at the praise, panting hot as he leans over the rest of the way, and when he does, Erik puts a little pressure to keep him against the desk, and that only really makes him hotter.   
  
Inch by inch Erik fucks into his pupil slowly, an agonizing pace, but when he’s seated, he keeps one hand on his hip, and the other on his shoulder. When he pulls out nearly all the way, and the head of his cock catches Charles’ tight rim, he bites back a groan. When he ruts his hips hard to fill him fully, sheathing himself completely with a hard slap of hips against ass, Charles  _ does _ shout. The sound melts quickly into a soft whine and maybe in a different situation he’d feel embarrassed about all of this, about the reaction Erik can pull from him, but right now he’s too high on staggering amount of details in this entire situation that make his cock ache and his stomach tight.

Erik starts a pace, slow and deep at first, and by the time Charles is trying to rut back against him to meet his thrusts, Erik laughs a breathless sound and really starts to fuck him in earnest.

“My dear,” Magda’s voice calls, and Charles almost comes on the spot. He’d forgotten she was there.   
  
A nonanswer in the form of a grunt, and Magda answers sweetly, “Take half a step back. I want to see his cock paint your desk.”   
  
Charles’ eyes roll a little and Erik does exactly what she asks, pulling them back half a step.

“Thank you, dear.” Her voice is like honey and Charles can feel the way Erik fucks him harder with the reminder that he’s putting on a show for her as well.

He slows to a stop for just long enough to reach and pull Charles’ leg up, encouraging his knee up onto the desk, and when he goes back to pounding him from behind, it’s at a whole different angle that makes Charles’ vision sparkle.

He doesn’t realize he’s muttering, pleading,  _ begging _ for Erik to come, to be allowed to come, but he is, and Erik’s hard breaths behind him heave hard with the slap of skin and the thick squelch of lube and sweat.

It doesn’t take long at that angle before Charles feels his muscles draw, tighten, and start to shake with the coming release. He bites into his lower lip when he isn’t panting hard, trying to keep up with his own somewhat clumsy thrusts from this angle.

Erik’s hand on the back of his neck is what does it, and he comes hard, streaking the desk with ropes of cum. Erik didn’t even have to touch his cock to finish him, and Charles is both embarrassed and enamored.

The pounding keeps up, though, and Charles rocks against the desk, groaning soft punched out sounds, hole tight as a vice still, but with such a constant pressure against his prostate, the overstimulation builds up quickly.

After a few minutes of feverish bucking, Charles makes the call, croaking out, “Apricot.” and Erik stops immediately.    
  
Shaking and sweating and trying to catch his breath, Charles is glad for the way Erik pulls out immediately and strokes a hand down his back, “Are you alright, Charles?”   
  
He heaves a soft sound, world fuzzy and warm, “Mm, mhm. I just- it was too much.”   
  
Erik nods gently and strokes a hand through his hair carefully. Charles looks up at him from where he’s still bent against the desk, eyes half lidded, and asks, “Will you finish on my back? I can do that. Please.”   
  
A soft huff as he ducks his head with a laugh, “If you want it, Charles.”   
  
He nods, cheek pressed to his arm as he watches Erik, and eyes flick to Magda. Erik’s hand doesn’t press with the same force to keep him pinned, but it does stay on his back, moving over his shoulders and back, reassurance he’s still here more than anything. The wet sounds of him jerking himself off are like music to Charles ears.

When he feels the warm wet splatter across his lower back and ass, dripping along the curve and down his thigh sluggishly, his eyes roll a little, and he sighs happily. Erik leans over him and runs his hand through his hair again, voice soft, “You did well, Charles.”

Relaxing a little at a time, he sags against the desk before Erik steps away, coming back with a rag and a gentle hand to help clean him up. When he’s found enough of his coherency, he hands Charles the rag and gestures with a small nod of his head, and Charles’ face goes ruddy as he bites his lip, reaching to clean up where he’d cum on his professor’s desk.

Taking the rag back, Erik hands him a bottle of water instead, and runs a hand through his hair again, letting his hand trail to cup his jaw and run his thumb over his cheek. “You did well,” he reiterates, making sure that Charles knows.

“Thank you, Professor Lehnsherr,” he sighs, and drinks some of the water down. He still feels hot and overwhelmed, but that’s probably to be expected considering this was a hell of a lot all at once.

Magda’s heels click closer and she leans in to give Erik a kiss to the cheek, her hand on his ass, and then she comes closer to Charles, voice gentle, “May I give you a kiss, Charles?”   
  
He blinks sheepishly before giving her a small smile, “Yes, Professor Maximoff, you may!” He’s too pleased with himself, and Erik can see it. It makes him roll his eyes fondly and rather than the kiss to the lips Charles closes his eyes and puckers up for, she holds the bottom of his chin and tilts his head so she can kiss his forehead.

"You did beautifully."

The smile softens and Charles relaxes more.   
  
When he peeks at the two of them, he can’t help the mischievous, sly grin, “So… about that extra credit.”


End file.
